Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, December 10, 1898, Page 6

F THE BLACK TERROR 2 A Romance of Russia. By JOHN K. LEYS. Cocogeererrrererg CHAPTER I. The White Fox. All day long it had threatened to snow. The wind moaned about the cliff-like walls and lofty turrets of the castle, portending a storm, But it was not until the sun went down, and the y winter twilight was changing in- to night that the snowflakes began-to ‘all. I went to the window to watch them. Though it was almost dark, the dull whit f the desolate plain, for weeks past shrouded in snow, was visible for niiles As 1 stood there, I saw a sledge come out from the belt of pines to the west- ward, and approach the castle, It was a shabby vehicle, drawn by a pair of wretched, tired ho: but it was evi- dent that the visitor considered him- person of some importance, for drove straight up to the principal nee. he coming of a stranger was an event at th eCastle of Lovna, where weeks would often pass without the advent of a visitor; and so tired was I of my own company, that, although it yas none of my business, I left my warm room and went down to the hall to see What sort of a person it was who had braved the discomforts of a sledge journey in such weather, and learn what he had come for. When I entered the hall I found it empty, except for two figures. One was the lord of the castle, Prince Kro- ; the other was the stranger. were standing opposite to each few feet apart. Beside the tall, commanding figure of the Prince, the stranger's person seemed slight, almost insignificant. Judging from his slim, well made limbs and spare frame, anyone would have taken him for a man under thirty; and I was surprised to see that his hair was perfectly white. Yet his face, so far as 1 could see it in the firelight, was not that of an old man. “Herr von Mitschk the Prince was with a sa tic accent on the I have not the honor of your aintance. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” I was crossing the hi aid; and, to my surpr self ll as this was e, the Prince, as he observed me, made me a sign tnat I ould remain, The stranger tice of me whatever. way, Prince,” nd my object took no “T ha said he, w is to pay a debt- “What do you “A debt due f ather to the openski broke into a laugh. something quite unusual,” imed. “But if that is your ob- ject, I am sure you ar‘ Come, Herr von Mi have some tea. Of cou J stay the night—in fact, if Iam not m taken, the weather will constrain you to be our guest for some days “Perhaps you had better hear what 1 have to Prince, before you offer me your hos ity “Well, business first, as Prince, you say, Heath,” said the glancing at me. “How much is this debt?” “Would it not be better that we should be alone?’ suggested Von Mitschka. “On the cont I prefer that this gentleman, who is, for the time being, a member of my household, should be present,” and I notieced that a suspi- i look crossed the bold features of ‘nce, as if he were not quite sure tor’s real intentions. y h it, let it be so,” said Von Mitschka; and, turning half round, he made a stiff bow, which I returned. The debt I have come to pay,” he resumed, “is not a money debt—"’ “I thought so!” interjected the Prince, under his breath. ‘But one of much greater import- ance. “Indeed?” “It is as I have said. The Prince, your father, departed at one time so far from his usual habit as to lay my father, though a German, ard a credit- or, under an obligation. "Iwas but an act of simple justice on the part of the Prince, yet in the result, it saved my father's life. In return, my father held the large debt which the Prince owed him as cancelled, and, in addition, he Jaid it upon me that, if ever Lwshould have the opportunity, | should perform for you a service s ar to that which had been rendered him. The opportu- nity has come, and I am here to dis- charge the obli “Ajl this is very fine and romantic, broke in the Prince, with a sneer, “but I dort see that I am likely to be a single kopec the richer for it, and so I have the less interest in the matter,” and he haughtily turned aside,’as if he bad already en this man more time than his affairs deserved. “One moment, Prince. I will not tax your patience long. You may not have heard that you have been appointed, or are about to be appointed, to the post of military governor of the prov- ince of Volotzka.” “What? screamed the Prince, turn- ing upon him in a moment, with a strange mixture of emotions glowing am his face. There was pleasure, satis- faction, delight, triumph, and, above and beyond these, a surprise, an amaze- ment that amounted to awe. “What did you say?’ he said, in a calmer voice. Von Mitschaka repeated his state- ment, 4 “You have just been appointed to the governorship of Volotzka. If the imperial mandate has not been signed to-day it will be signed to-morrow, and ‘you may expect a messenger, bearing ‘the time.” “And you wished to be the first to bring me the news? Well, am obliged to you; though I do not quite see how you are going to make out that it is the paying f a debt,” he added, with a laugh. “Pardon, Prince, I did not say so,” said the stranger, gravely. There was a sadness in his voice that I could not understand. “The object of the log journey I have undertaken is not mere- ly to be the bearer of this news to you, but to entreat you not to accept the post when it is offered to you.” For the moment the Prince’s face was a perfect study of amazement. Then he burst into a laugh, and laughed until he was forced to throw himself down on one of the great oak- irs. “What nonsense is this?” ed when the fit of laughter was over. “Give up the command of a rich province—a great province—because a stranger, de it! I never assurance in my life!” em singular,” and as he spoke an indefinable change came over his face. Now that I had had time to look at it more closely, that face struck me as being a very remarkable one. It spoke clearly of intellectual ability. No one could fail to notice that. And yet, no one looking at Von Mitschka would have exclaimed, “what a clever man!” but “what a will that man has!” It was the countenance of a leader, of a man to whom his own law, his own will, was sufficient—a man who would first work out his problems and make his plans, and then allow others to suppose that they were carrying out their own ideas in obeying his will. There was a light in those dark eyes, gleaming under the black eyebrows, which contrasted se strangely with his snow-white hair, that marked the un- crowned king. He was as absolutely unmoved ‘by the open ridicule of the Prince as he had been by the imperti- nence of his ill-concealed sneers. With- out as much as glancing in my direc- | tion, he went oa: “This matter concerns you and me alone Prince. It is, as 1 have said, my ob, and my sole object, to try to pei ade you to give up this office that will be offered you.” “And your reasons—ycur reasons? You haven’t come to that yet!” “My reason is, that it will not be safe for you to undertake the duties of the pos “What, sir not safe?” “Very far from safe. The tempta- tions will be great—both the temptation to undue severity—for there are two great prisons in the province, and polit- ical prisoners are often sent there—and the temptation to enrich yourself at the expense of the unhappy taxpay- ers.” “By Heaven, this is too much!” cried the Prince, striding up to the stranger, with clenched hands. Von Mitschka dod not move a hair's breadth. “Think what your reputation was for eruelty when you had the prisoners of Vornik at your merey! Think what a reputation you left behind you at Mon- olsk! It is not that you are, like some, fiendishly cruel; but you are a despot, merciless to all who dare oppose your will, and you have the temper of your race. You will be tempted to further exce: and if you fall under the temptation, you will not g ounpun- ished. It is this that I have come to tell you. ‘Take my advice, and decline the Czar's offer.” I marveled that the Prince endured all this plain speaking; and L marveled yet more that the stranger knowing, as he evidently did, what manner of man the Prince was, should have dared to beard him in his own castle in that fashion. It is my belief that dropen- ski was speechless from indignation— motionless from pure astonishment. But ro sooner did Von Mitschka cease to speak, than the Prince sprang on him and caught him by the coat. Von Mitschka did not stir. “You dare to say this to me? By Heaven, you have dared more than any man has dared yet, and lived!” “Prince Kropenski, take your hands from my coat,” said th eobject of the | Prince’s wrath, so quietly that his voice ; was scarcely audible. “I will kill you! At all events, T will have you shut up ina place you can- not easily get out of.” “No, Prince. You will not do any of these things you have in your mind. You will let me go as I-came.” “Why should I not have you flogged out of the township by m yservants?” “Because I am your guest.” At these words, the hands of the fu- rious Prince slipped away from the yisitor’s collar. He fel Iback a page or two, and seemed to be regarding his visitor with a new interest. “Who are you?” he cried, suddenly. “How did you get this information Ozar’s commands, in a few days’ ; { about my appointment?” “We have early intelligence of such matters” said Von Mitschka, with a quiet smile. ‘These words, mildly spoken as they were, semed to cause in the Prince a new access of rage. “We!” he shouted, in a tone of ap- palling fury. “What do you mean by We? You mean the Nihilists!” “There are no Nihilists now, that I am aware of. I meant the Committee of Public Safety.” “Ah, I know your cant! But the name matters nothing; the thing is the by Heaven, you must be the White Fox!” A savage joy that made the man seem perfectly ferocious, gleamed in the Prince’s eyes as he spoke these wodrs. “You can see,” be contiucd, in a catm- er tone, “that I must have you arrested and sent to St. Petersburg at once. 1 should ‘not be doing my duty if I al- lowed you to eseape.” The stranger shruged his shoulders. “L foresaw that this might be the re- ' sult of paying the debt I spoke of,” he same. You are a Revolutionary—Yes, | anid with the same air of imrerturable calm. . His words had the effect he no doubt intended. The Prince wheeled about, and began to pace the hall with long strides, his head sunk on his breast. He- was evidently thinking that this was but a poor return for the warning Von Mitschka had brought hi:n. Finally he stopped opposite his visit- or, and pointed to the door with a sin- gle word—"Go!” ‘The stranger bowed with proud po- liteness, and turned to obey. “And, mark me,” cried the Prince, “you shall get no shelter at the village. My steward will see to that! We are all loyal folks here and we don’t mean to harbor a Nihilist, whatever he may call himself.” Von Mitschka stopped short, and locked the infuriated noble straight zn the face. “The horses that brought me here are tired out,” he said. “It is impossi- ble to set out with them, and I learned as I passed that there were no availa- ble horses in the village. If no one will take me in, I must perish in the snow.” “What is that to me?’ roared the Prince. “You should have thought of that before you began to conspire against the Czar. You know that you are an outlaw. You know that there is | price cn ycur head; you know the pen. alties for harboring Nihilists. Once more I say, go! Go, before I repent of my weakness in suffering you to es- cape!” A shout from the Prince brought the porter to his place. The great door swung back on its hinges, letting in a blast of icy wind; an dthe outlaw went away in the storm. CHAPTER It. The Saw-Mill. The Prince left the hall immediately, in order, I supposed, to see that word was sent to the villagers that none of them should give shelter to the outlaw. No sooner was he gone than I too, left the hall, and passing rapidly through several rooms and corridors, reached a postern gate in the southwestern angle of the castle. My object was to over- take Von Mitschka before he got be- yond the precincts. I knew that for a man to be out all night, in such a cli- storm as was now raging, meant death; and I knew, also, that the cruel orders issued by the Prince, that no one should to the letter. The truth was, that the peasants dared not disobey their lord’s | commands, though obedience meant the Sw one. 1 meant to save the man’s life, if it could be dor As for his offenses gainst the Ru: n government I con- sidered that they were no business of mine. I meant to guide Von Mitschka to a rude shelter, and I was afraid that if I allowed him to get beyond the vi- cinity of the castle I would not be able to find him in the darkness. Luckily, the postern gate was rot locked. I passed through it, and, run- | ning fast,, I overtook Von Mitschka as he was coming through the great that led from the inclosure to the vil- lage. “Where do you mean to go?” I panted out, for I had been running hard. Von Mitschka stopped and peered in- to my face without replying. talking to the Prince, and I heard him say that you would not be allowed to stay over-night in the village. I am sure the peasants will obey him. Ev- ery door will be shut against you. What do you mean to do?” “T shall walk to Navorsk.” “But Navorsk is more than twenty versts away. Evem if you should be sure of keeping to the road, the chances are that you will never reach the place alive, in the face of this storm. But you would be sure to lose your way be- fere you covered a quarter of the dis- tance.” “You may be right, but I see nothing better to be done.” “Some sledges are to pass by us to- morrow, if they are not storm-stayed,” I said, “and you might be able to make a bargain with one of the drivers to take you to St. Petersburg.” j “Yes; but to-night? That is pressing difficulty.” “I think I can find you a shelter.” said I, “though a very rough one.” Von Mitschka thanked me warmly; and, turning round, I led the way to- wards a wooded hill that lay about a quarter of a mile to the north of the castle. There they had built, the previ- ous summer, a saw-mill driven by wind-power, to provide timber for the | alterations that were in progress at the castle. The mill was now deserted, and it was there that I had thought of shel- tering the stranger for the night. ‘The snowdrift was so thick, and the wind so cruelly keen, that I shuddered to think of any human being trying to wake his way that night on foot to the town Von Mitschka had spoken of. He would certainly have been dead long before morning. .As we advanced, the path became more sheltered, and the snow was deeper and softer than it had bee> in | the open plain. We sank in the soft, ; White drift to our knees, sometimes up | to our waists; and when at length we arrived at the mill our feet and legs j were scaked through; we were panting and exhausted; and, in spite of the icy | wind, bathed in perspiration. The key was in the corner, where it was usually kept, and I soon had the door open. We were under a roof now; but there was no stove or chimney so a fire was impossible. There was no bed, no food, no change of clothes, for | the stranger I was trying to befriend. The want of a bed was supplied by a heap of pine shavings, but it was ne- cessary that Von Mitschka should | have dry clothes and food, and the only place from which the could be pro- ; cured was the castle. I set out imme- | Von Mitschka that I would be back in the ; an hour. With some difficulty I mad- my way : to the castle and got together something | clothes from my own wardrobe, to- gether with some food, and a flask of Scotch whisky, which I kept for emer- | gencies like the present. Laden with these things, and fer- vently hoping that I might not encoun- ter the Prince on the way, I stole down one of the staircases, and was con- gratulating myself on having success- fully made my escape, when I came face to face with Prince Kropenski’s ate, and in the midst of such a snow- | shelter the stranger, would be obeyed | fice of a hundred lives, instead of | | “IT was in the hall when you were daughter, the Princess Irene. We were in a long, ill-lighted passage which end- ed at the postern door, but it was im- possible that she should not notice the large bundle I was carrying. “Where are you going at this hour, Mr. Heath?’ she demanded, and I felt, rather than saw her dark eyes fixed on me with a disdainful look of inquiry. I was silent, and wondered whether it would be too imprudent to give the answer that rose to my lips—that Ij was not accountable to her for my conduct. “I see what it is!” she er ed, her col- or rising as she spoke. “You are car- rying food and clothes to that Nihilist whom my father has forbidden anyone to harbor. Do you not think it would be more becoming in you to set an ex- ample of obedience to your employer?” “By no means,” I retorted, stung by the girl's tone as much as her words. am engaged n the work I came here to !do; and I do not choose to stand by and see murder done when I can pre- vent it.” She started. “You would not dare to say this to my father!’ she’said, her voice trem- bling with indignation. “Permit me to say that you are mis- | taken,” I returned. “You are at pe | fect liberty to repeat my words wheu {and where you choose. The forbid- ding of shelter to a man on sv | night, as this is equivalent to caus his death.” “I did not think of that,” she said, in jcrimes these men commit, and the strict orders issued by the Czar that no one is to harbor them. Of course, the man must. not be allowed to perish at our gate. “Precisely what I thought. And now. I hope you will excuse me for leaving you. back before the hour for locking the doors.” The Princess said nothing, but stood ' looking at the ground for some sec- onds. Then she suddenly raised her eyes and looked me straight in the face. ' “You are quite right, Mr.. Heath she said, drawing herself up as she | spoke, as if the effort to speak words | which bore some resemblance to an apology, were too much for her pride. “I thank you for what you are doing, and I am sure that, when he has bs time to consider the matter, my father will thank you, too.” This I thought something less than likely, but I made no reply except by 4 bow, moving at the same time towards the door. “Wait!” she cried, and, without stop- ping for an answer or looking behina her, she swiftly disappeared. I laid my burden on the stone floc: of the corridor and waited. I less time than I would have thought it possible, considering the distance she had to traverse, the Princess had returned, bearing in her arms a heavy rug of skins, such as are used in Russia for sledge traveling. Without a word she placed it in my arms and vanished. it was almost more than I could manage to carry the heavy rug, in ad- dition to the other articles, through the snow, but I toiled on, and, after half an hour’s struggle with the wind and snow, I had the satisfaction of stagger- ing through the door of the saw-mill with my burden. “You have saved my life,” said Vou Mitschka, as he ravenously ate some of the food I had brought. “Pooh! that is an accident,” said I. “The trouble I have taken is not much, But, tell me: Is it really against the law for anyone to shelter you? Certainly it is.” “You must be very desperate fel- lows, surely,” I said, with a laugh. “Desperate?” said the stranger, in a voice so gentle that it went straight to my heart. “I hardly know what you mean by desperate. If you mean that the work of regenerating this God- abandoned country often seems a t: beyond human powers, you are right. If you mean that we are men prepared to committ murders and other crimes lightly, you are wrong.” “I thought Nihilists and Anarchists were much the same thing,” said I, in rather a provocative tone, for I wished to force my companion to speak of tke mysterius organization of which I had heard so much, and of which I knew so little. “There is little wonder at the = conception,” said Von Mitschka, still in the same calm, even tone, eeing that the names are so much alike in mean- ing. That is why we have repudiated the name of Nihilist. But I am not prepared to deny that our principles, our aims, and, to some extent, our methods, are similar to those of the Nihilists, whom we have succeeded.” “I know very little either about An- archists or Nihilists,” said I, “and I confess I have a good deal of curiosity on the subject. Anything you care to tell me I shall be glad to learn; but, of course,I don’t expect you to disclo: any of the secrets of your organ tin. In fact, I would rather not know them.” “My friend has not yet told me his name,” said the stranger, softly. “My name is Raymond Heath. as you know, an Englishman; but [ have been staying at the castle of Lo na for some months, planning and su- perintending the execution of some rather extensive alterations at the cas- tle, which the Prince has undertaken. My life here is dull enough, as you may imagine. All my news comes to me through English newspapers, post- ed to me; and as they generally have the Russian news—everything concern- ing the state of the country, at all events—blotted out by the state censor, 1 know just as much about this myste- rious society of yours as I did when I came, and that is nothing at all.” “And yet it is very simple,” said the stranger. “We desire nothing more than you English, or almost any other nation in Europe except the German, enjoys. We are one hundred million slaves.” “I thought you were a German.” (Lo Be Continued.) As He Looked at It. Mrs. Enpeck—Ahb, well, things ‘are neyer so bad but that they might be worse. Mr. Enpeck (in whom the lion has suddenly been aroused)—I know it. L might be a Mormon and have three or i four of you—t:hicago News. KS “IT am my own master unless when I } ja lower tone. “I thought only of the } I shall have enough ta do to get | Tam, ' Bacterial Rot of Cabbage. Newspaper bulletin No. 69 of the In- diana experiment station says: With- ; in the past few years a bacterial dis- j ease of the cabbage has become so prevalent in certain cabbage-growing | localities as to occasion very serious losses to those engaged in the business. Although it has been said to occur in Indiana, it has not come to the at- tention of the station until recently. | Several fields in the vicinity of La- fayette affected with this bacterial dis- ease, have been examined by the writer the present season, In one of these fields, containing over 20,000 plants, which were attacked early in the sea- Son, not a single marketable head was obtanied, In other fields, judging from a cursory examination, from 10 to 50 per cent of the heads were affected. In view of these facts, it has been , thought best to send out a note of | warning in regard to the disease, in | order that such precautionary measures as are deemed most valuable may be at once employed in keeping it in check. Fortunately the life history of the dis- ease has been quite thoroughly studied of late, and the result of the investiga- tions, together with other valuable in- formation, may be found in Bulletin No. 65, of the Wisconsin experiment station, and Farmers’ Bulletin No. 68, of the U. S. department of agriculture. The latter bulletin is sent free on ap- plication to the secretary of agricul- ture, The conclusions of these investiga- tors, although working independently, are essentially the same, Both are agreed that the only hope of success- fully combating the disease is in the } careful observance of several precau- tionary measures. Symptoms of\Disease—A dwarfing or one-sided growth of the heads, or in case of an early attack, the entire ab- sence of any heads. Occasionally the heads rot and fall off. In the leaves the symptoms usually begin at the margins and consist of a yellowing of all the affected parts, ex- cept the veins, which become decidedly brown or black. Infection—The bacterial germ is conveyed to the leaves of the plant by wind or insects, and in most cases gains an entrance to the tissues of the plant through the edges of the leaf. Precautionary Measures.——As_ there is no remedy known, preventive meas- ures must be relied on in combating the disease. These measures are as follows: Avoid planting in land on which in- j fected plants have been grown. Sev- eral years may be necessary to rid the | land of the germs. Do not use manure, containing de- cayed cabbage leaves, or stalks either in the seed bed or field. Wet land should be avoided, as it favors the development of the disease. Keep the plants as free from insects as possible, Remove and destroy all diseased plants or portions of the plant, as soon as diseased condition is noticed. If any of the readers of this article | have been troubled with the disease, they will confer a favor by reporting the same to the Indiana experiment station at Lafayette. —William Stuart, Assistant Botanist Big Yields of Corn. Some weeks ago we mentioned the fact that at the Illinois State Fair there were six entries of corn for the award for greatez: acre yield. The yields, as reported, were as follows:: W. F. Schnapp, 180 bushels 63 pounds. Samuel D. Maddock, 74 bushels 65 pounds. Albert Brown, 84 bushels 10 pounds. John H. Powers, 176 bushels 40 pounds. F. D. Nunes, 145 bushels 22 pounds. C. W. McMurray, 126 bushels 10 pounds, This shows what it is possible to do on land properly manured and properly cared for. The previous year there were many other entries, but none that came up to the high-water mark of this year. It is a pity that more en- tries were not made. It would seem that hundreds of farmers might com- pete in this class. It would be a good thing for the agriculture of Illinois if more money were devoted to this part of the fair. Good Layers. A writer in Farm Poultry this month publishes the record of a Light Brahma ' pullet born July 10, 1897. She began to lay on Jan. 14, and her record to Oct, 10, 1898, was as follows: January 12, February 19, March 30, April 25, May 28, June 24, July 29, August 23, September 20, October (10 days) 8, mak- : ing a total of 218 eggs. The Farmers’ Review regards this as a remarkable performance, but one to be believed. It only shows the possibilities of building up laying strains in almost any of the ' breeds. This hen should be kept for ! the purposes of breeding. Not all of her eggs would produce chicks of such fecundity as their mother, but some of them probably would. f Time for Drainage Work.—The ques- tion is sometimes asked: ‘When is the pest time to tile drain?” This ques- tion might very properly be answered by saying, whenever one has time and good tools. There are certain times, though, when tile draining can be done much easier and cheaper than others. In the fall and spring the ground is almost invariably well saturated with water, making the opening of the trenches much easier than when the ground is dry and hard. Once in a great while one finds a peculiar soil that digs almost or quite as easily when wet, but such soils are the exception. —O, J. Vine in Drainage Journal, It would be best to feed those j chicks a little longer if they do not weigh at least a pound and a half or two pounds, for chicks under that pring less accordingly. EE 8 TS SRS ia NAILER STR LS 7 SN IC RAR aE EE el ASSES CEE ec nn SA aL Tae SRS SAN Ea hE SP SEED er PRE RE a WARE SPL ees TR SA OE ASLAM elas SAPP SESS RI SE BE : en Make it a Point To Cet the Best Every Time, When _ You Buy Medicine. Health is too valuable to be trifled with. Do not experiment. 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